


Playing the Devil

by SugarPill



Series: Condensed Trigun [4]
Category: Trigun
Genre: Based on a manga scene, Canon - Manga, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gung-Ho Guns, Moral Dilemmas, TriMax vol. 2, Wolfwood-Typical Cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarPill/pseuds/SugarPill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why did you shoot him, Wolfwood?!"<br/>"If I hadn't shot him, it'd be you lying there."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Based heavily on one of my favorite TriMax scenes, from Volume 2. This takes place immediately after Wolfwood kills Rai-Dei the Blade.

The next thing Vash heard was the gunshot. It rang in his ears like a wicked elegy, echoing and reverberating across the dead landscape. As he turned, he realized with horror what had happened. He saw his attacker go rigid as the bullets hit his body; a puppet whose strings had been severed, trapped between life and death in slow motion. He saw the blood spatter, flecks of crimson tears weeping and falling. He saw the grim flash of the gun against Wolfwood’s sunglasses as he fired again and again, each a luminous glimpse through the reaper’s shroud. He saw his opponent’s lifeless shell crumple to the sun-baked earth, his weapon falling away. The impact was deafening to Vash’s ears, causing dust and dirt to be clouded towards the heavens.

Wolfwood had shot him. He had shot him and now he was dead. 

Vash hadn’t realized he’d been screaming. But his wordless roar had found a target as he flew towards the preacher. 

“WOLFWOOD!!” Vash hit him in the face with everything he had. The blow caused Wolfwood’s head to snap sharply to the side, his cheap plastic shades falling away. “Why?!” The priest didn’t bother to turn his head to meet Vash’s searing gaze, steely blue glaring from the corners of his eyes. 

When Wolfwood said nothing, Vash collapsed into the dust before his former attacker. The blood was seeping from beneath his form, the deep red contrasting sharply with the bleak coloring of the ground. It was quickly forming a pool, but not faster than the dry earth was absorbing it’s moisture. It seemed the planet was as hardened as it’s occupants; it would get what it needed to survive, no matter where it came from.

“Why?” Vash repeated, his rage trimmed in moral disgust and hatred. “Why did you shoot him, Wolfwood?!”

In response, Wolfwood suddenly shoved Vash roughly into the dirt, the force slamming his head and shoulder hard into the ground. Vash hissed in pain and cradled his head in his arms as hot pain began to throb through his system. 

Vash glared up at Wolfwood. The priest looked like a black pillar against the cerulean sky, towering over Vash’s form as he lay in the dust. The priest stared back, his eyes seething with intense fury as he spoke, his voice deceptively calm.

“Are you really such an idiot?” Wolfwood studied Vash, watching the outlaw pull himself wincingly into a sitting position. He had his back to Wolfwood, facing the body of the samurai. “If I hadn’t shot him, it’d be you lying there.”

“You’re wrong.” 

There was a menacing pause. “What did you say?” asked Wolfwood, his voice dangerously quiet.

Vash felt his fingers digging into the dry earth beneath him. “You’re wrong,” he repeated, looking at the body that lay before him. Those eyes, glassy orbs glazed with death… “He wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t have pulled the trigger.” 

“Don’t screw with me, blockhead!” Wolfwood yelled, his voice starting to reveal his anger. “You’re saying he wouldn’t have shot at you?!” 

“I don’t know!” Vash shot back. He pressed his prosthetic hand against his temple, trying in vain to calm the ringing in his head. “Maybe he would have fired, but…I would have just dodged! No matter how many times it took!” Vash glared at Wolfwood over his shoulder, his eyes burning with conviction. “Anything would be better than killing him and taking away his chance to stop! No one has the right to take the life of another!” 

“Give it a rest, will ya?” Wolfwood shouted, grabbing Vash by the front of his coat and pulling him roughly to his feet. “You damn hypocrite!” Wolfwood glared at him, his gray eyes shining with frustrated fury. Vash stared back, but he made no move to remove his collar from the priest’s grasp. Suddenly, Wolfwood gave a disturbing chuckle.

“Tongari, you’re a slick one…” Wolfwood said, gritting his teeth together. “You talk of saving everyone, but you don’t want to get your hands dirty.” 

Then suddenly Wolfwood grabbed Vash’s wrist roughly, forcing his hand open. The priest unceremoniously reached to his hip and produced a handgun, twirling it a few times around his finger before slapping it into Vash’s palm. He wrapped Vash’s hand around the handle, forcing his finger to the trigger. Then Wolfwood yanked Vash’s arm so the gun was pointed between his own eyes. 

“Shoot.”

Vash’s eyes went wide with surprise, his brows furrowed, his mouth groping. But he said nothing. Wolfwood glared at him from around the gun barrel. 

“If you really believe that I was wrong to shoot him, pull the trigger.” He spoke with disturbing clarity, his eyes burning with finality. “In return, my role as the Devil will be handed over to you. That way you won’t hesitate to take out the next man who stands in your way. It’s a small price to pay, if it brings something like that out of ya…” Wolfwood forced the nozzle of the weapon into his forehead, staring at Vash with unblinking conclusiveness. “I’ll trade my life.” 

Vash pressed his lips into a thin line, his hand tightening around the handle of the gun. But he did nothing.

Wolfwood sneered. “Can’t do it, can ya? Chicken-shit.”

“You are the coward here, Wolfwood,” Vash accused simply. His face had become placid and emotionless, but his eyes were narrowed, as if he could stare right through the priest to his soul. “No matter what you do… you give it up so easily.”

Wolfwood’s eyes widened with anger at the statement. “ _You’re_ the one who doesn’t know when to give up!” He growled. 

“What are you saying, looking so mad?” Vash said quietly. “You that afraid to trust someone?” Wolfwood froze, his face contorted with rage. He gritted his teeth, grimacing at Vash’s words. _What was that in his face…?_ he thought. … _Pity? Sympathy?_

“You told me… back then…” Vash spoke calmly, his green eyes enunciating every syllable. “You told me that my face looked better with a real smile. If you could see yourself through my eyes now…. you’d see a man forcing himself to play the Devil while his own heart cries out.” 

The two stared at each other, their eyes meeting unblinkingly. Steely blue-gray meeting intense aqua. Placid empathy meeting bristling rage. They made an unlikely pair, but their paths had crossed, and they had become comrades and friends. Friends that had different goals, different ideas, and different morals. 

Wolfwood let his hand drop to his side. The gun fell from Vash’s fingers, clattering to the barren ground. Then the preacher turned his back on his friend.

And he walked away, towards where the earth meets the sky.


End file.
